press start to continue
by writerdragonfly
Summary: An accident away from Beacon Hills leaves Stiles in a coma with no identity. Three weeks later, Lydia Martin comes across a spectral Stiles in the Hale House. (Major character death, happy ending.)


The summer between his junior and senior years is busy. Between light emissary training, sports practice, pack business, and college prep, his days are full.

He likes it better that way. Less time to think.

In late July, he gets the invitation to tour Berkeley as an early admission candidate and he jumps at the chance.

But circumstances make it impossible for Lydia, Scott, or his father to join him. With promises to keep in contact, Stiles goes alone.

* * *

It turns out to be a mistake.

* * *

There's a huge car accident on the highway half an hour outside Beacon Hills.

* * *

Stiles isn't in it. His jeep is.

* * *

Stiles is laying in a dark alley behind a small town gas station some fifty miles out the wrong direction, bleeding out on the cement.

* * *

Sheriff John Stilinski is eating a bacon cheeseburger at his desk, going over budget reports and trying not to check the time again or attempting to call Stiles to check in.

He's got a curly fry in between two fingers when someone knocks on the door to his office, and opens the door without waiting.

Rafael McCall stands in the doorway next to one of his deputies. He hasn't seen much of the man in weeks, not since he retired from the FBI and accepted a desk position with the California Highway Patrol at their local office. Seeing him now probably means there was an accident of some sort, big enough to warrant the sheriff's station to step in.

"John."

John feels the pit of his stomach bottom out at that. He's got a terrible feeling. A _bad_ feeling.

"Rafa, what's going on?" He knows before he asks, that somehow, this is about _Stiles_.

"There was a huge pile-up on the highway half an hour out."

"Where's my son?" His voice is hoarse, everything in him is screaming out. Nonononono. Not Stiles. Not his kid, his little boy. Not after everything else.

* * *

Scott presses the call button, frowning at his phone when it goes straight to voicemail. Stiles was already two hours late coming back from Berkeley, and his phone is _never_ off.

He should have cancelled his plans and gone with him!

His phone rings in his hand and he answers it without looking.

"Stiles?"

_"Scott. You need to get to the Sheriff's Station immediately."_

"Derek?"

_"Don't argue, just get here!"_

* * *

It takes two weeks. Two long weeks.

For two weeks, they mourn Stiles. They work on funeral plans they can't continue on with without a body, and ache.

And then the strings are cut.

* * *

"John, I have news." Rafael McCall says, standing in the doorway of the Stilinski house. He's got a folder in his hand, but John doesn't care.

"When are they releasing his body?" He asks, without looking at Rafa. His son is still alive. His son is currently sitting on the couch behind him, even.

He doesn't look at Rafa when he asks. He's just so tired.

"It wasn't Stiles!"

Scott and Lydia are at his side in seconds, both of them pressing themselves against him in support.

"What?"

"The dental records didn't match. I don't know who was driving your son's jeep, but it wasn't Stiles."

But if it wasn't Stiles who burned in the accident, then..._ where was he?_

* * *

Another week passes with no news. A missing person's report is filled and the local news stations pick up the story, but it doesn't do much.

Stiles is eighteen. He's legally an adult.

* * *

They identify the body that was in his jeep as a known carjacker.

* * *

The pack feels Stiles' loss like a missing limb, even though he was human. They spend their free time searching for him, even though they suspect that he is well and truly gone.

The idea of him being alive and choosing to not come home isn't something they believe would ever happen.

* * *

Lydia screams herself awake in the middle of a pack meeting, having fallen into an exhausted sleep alongside Isaac.

She doesn't wait for anyone. Instead, she takes off in her car before they can react.

* * *

She drives out to the Hale House in a fugue state and expects to see a body.

She expects to see someone (_Stiles_) laying in a bloody heap on the ground.

* * *

"Can you see me?"

That's the first question the figure asks. It's edges are fuzzy, slowly sharpening. But she knows the voice, oh how she does!

"Oh my god."

"Do you know who I am?" It asks, as the bright white edges fade into the shape of a person. A specific person.

"_Stiles_." She lurches forward, but her hands go right through the flickering shape of him.

"What's a Stiles?"

She starts to cry, gently placing her hands around his arms without actually touching. She can't touch. He's not _real_.

"You're really gone, aren't you?"

"Gone? I'm right here! I had to walk a long time, you know!"

"We miss you so much, Stiles."

"I'm Stiles? Is that my name?"

"Of course it is! Do you-"

"I have to go. Camden is calling. I'll be back tomorrow."

And then he flickers out.

And once again, he is gone.

* * *

They catch up to her within a few minutes, but miss Stiles entirely.

"Lydia?!" Scott rushes in, catching her as she falls to the ground in a sobbing mess.

"What happened?" She doesn't know who asks. She doesn't care.

"I couldn't touch him. I tried but there was nothing there to touch."

"Touch who?"

She looks up at Scott, and whispers, " _Stiles_."

* * *

They don't tell the sheriff. Not yet.

Not until they find the body.

They can't do that to him.

* * *

The next morning, Lydia goes to the Hale House alone. She sits on the burned out stairs and waits.

* * *

And waits.

* * *

And waits.

* * *

"Was this my house? I asked Camden but he didn't know."

She almost screams when he flickers in right in front of her in the early afternoon.

"No. This wasn't your house. Who's Camden?"

"He's a guardian angel, I think. He's been watching a boy, trying to make sure he doesn't get hurt. I don't know how it works. I can't touch anything yet, except the ground. I can touch the ground. With my feet. I don't know why gravity still applies."

"Stiles, do you know where you are?"

"I'm right here!"

"I think you're a ghost."

"But I'm not dead! Ally said I wasn't dead!"

"Ally?"

"Camden's friend! She said I wasn't dead. I saw her at the cemetery last night. She was sitting at Camden's grave with him. After I left here."

_Camden. Ally. The cemetery. Camden's grave. "She said I wasn't dead."_

"Do you know where your body is, Stiles?" Lydia asks, the sudden realisation coursing through her.

"In a hospital, I think. But I don't know where that was. I started walking and then I found Camden and I saw you here and you could see me!"

"In a hospital? Not a morgue?"

"Well, yeah. I tried to get back in my body but it didn't work. It just felt funny."

"You're not dead."

"I told you that!"

"Stiles, you're _alive_!"

* * *

"Stilinski." His voice is gruff. He hasn't been crying (or drinking) but it's a near thing. (Today.)

"Mr. Stilinski!" Lydia's voice is high and near hysterical.

"You found his body." He states, his heart breaking. _Again_. His son is dead. That's why the _banshee_ is calling him.

"He's not dead! We haven't found his body but he's still alive!"

"How? How do you know that?" He's not even sure how he gets the words out.

"He told me."

* * *

The pack gathers at the Hale House. The sheriff is the first one to show up, minutes after Lydia's call.

They can't see Stiles. Only Lydia can. But that's okay.

* * *

"This is my dad?" Stiles asks, reaching out his spectral fingers to (almost) touch his father's arm.

"Yes, and he loves you very much."

* * *

"Who did he say he talked to?" Isaac asks, his eyes wide.

"Camden, he's your guardian angel!" Stiles says. Isaac can't hear him say it, but Lydia can. And then Lydia knows.

"Oh my god. Your _brother,_" Lydia whispers.

* * *

"So he's separated from his body. Is it his soul talking to you then?"

"I don't really know. But he said he walked here. It took him days. And then he followed Camden around and met Ally in the graveyard-"

"What if it's not really him? What if the real Stiles is dead and this is some sick creature taking his form?" It's Isaac who asks. Isaac, who doesn't know whether to believe that his brother has been watching out for him.

"I just know it's him!" Lydia cries. There's hope and fear in everyone's face. They want to believe. They're just not sure they can.

"Ally says to tell them 'we protect those who cannot protect themselves'." Stiles says. Lydia turns to face him with wide eyes.

"Ally? _Allison_ is here?!" Lydia asks. Everyone stays still, in shock.

"She said she's okay with dying. That it wasn't my fault. Why would it be my fault? She said she loves you all." Stiles looks confused. Lydia isn't the only one crying when she repeats his words.

* * *

"Where's your body, Stiles?" Scott asks. He still can't see Stiles, Lydia knows. But he believes he's there. And that's enough.

Stiles describes it as best he can. It could still be a hundred hospitals, but maybe it's enough.

* * *

They find the hospital they think is the right one after a few hours searching online. The sheriff calls ahead, asking if they have a John Doe..

There's a boy in a coma who matches Stiles' description. He's been there since someone found him in an alley on the same day as the accident.

* * *

They pack up into cars, no one willing to be left behind. Stiles sits carefully beside Lydia. They hope, they pray, that he doesn't phase through the seat as they start moving.

* * *

He doesn't.

* * *

It takes almost two hours before they arrive at the hospital.

Lydia tries not to scream as soon as they enter it. She can feel Stiles, can feel the way his body and soul scream in pain together. He's dying.

They don't have much time.

* * *

"It hurts."

* * *

"Wake up, kid. Stiles. Come on, you can do this."

* * *

"Lydia, try touching him. Kiss him!"

* * *

Nothing works.

* * *

The monitors and medical equipment scream in tandem with Stiles, even though only Lydia can hear his cries.

Stiles' body flatlines. His spirit flickers in and out as he screams.

Lydia bites her lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt not to scream, not to admit defeat.

* * *

Stiles stops screaming as the doctors and nurses inside the room with his body prepare to call time of death.

"Tell him I love him. Tell him, okay?" Stiles whispers to Lydia.

"Your dad knows, Scott knows, don't leave-"

"No, tell Derek. Please." Stiles says.

And then Lydia knows they have one last chance, a last ditch effort.

"Derek! Kiss him!" She screams, interrupting the mass of them sobbing in the hallway.

Derek shares a look with Lydia, who can no longer see Stiles at all. No one speaks.

The doctors in the room call time of death.

* * *

They let Derek in and he kisses Stiles. He desperately whispers for Stiles to come back.

* * *

Nothing happens. There is no magic lights or fluttering curtains. There's lots of crying, but nothing happens to Stiles.

* * *

And then, two minutes later, Stiles wakes up.


End file.
